


The Nerds Have Taken the Bunker

by Angyl_Devyl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Men of Letters, Phone Calls & Telephones, Serious Crack, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angyl_Devyl/pseuds/Angyl_Devyl
Summary: I'm still not certain if this is a good idea or not, it's been floating around in my head for a little while and I thought I should write it down.The bare bones seem to be a different insight into the way the Men of Letters runs their operations and training. The fact that there is a serious amount of crack involved isn't exactly my fault either.I'm not sure where this will end up, I know it's going to be an awesome adventure though.





	1. The Chapter where Dean needs to shoot someone

**Author's Note:**

> For Emmy, who told me I should write this down

As he parked Baby in the Bunkers garage Dean knew that something was different. His eyes darted around the other vehicles looking for hints of what had him on edge in his own home. Beside him, Sam was just as tense, hand already sitting on the handle of the gun he'd not put back into the Impalas arsenal after their hunting trip for a Rugaru in Illinois.   
  
All Sam wanted to do was take a shower and rinse the last traces of rugaru from his hair, he did not want to deal with anything other than the fabulous pressure of the bunkers showers.

"Dean? did you forget to turn off the lights when we left?" Sam worked to keep his face passive, he intensly hoped that his brother had gotten sloppy, or that Cas had dropped in. They were both going to kick the snot out of anything that disrupted their sanctuary.  
  
"Nope, everything was off when we left". Dean opened the door of his car and slid out of the drivers seat, using the bulk of the impala to shield him from a sudden attack.  
  
Both brothers were on high alert now, guns drawn and ready to fire. Their eyes flickering to each shadow, mentally clearing spaces to the left and right, checking behind and in front to make certain that no one was waiting to pounce. After a few tense moments they both confirmed that the garage was clear.  
  
Something was still wrong though.

Working as a team, Dean and Sam pushed open the door that lead into the Bunker itself. The hallway echoed with quiet murmurs of sound, with a tilt of his head, Dean moved towards the sounds, gun ready. Sam covered his six and Dean cleared left and right, there was no one, just the low murmur of noise, that sounded more and more like voices as they moved closer to the kitchen.  
  
Leading with the muzzle of his gun, Dean stepped around the door frame not overly surprised to find Ketch, the bastard, reading documents from a manilla folder at their kitchen table.  
  
"You're late Winchester" His British accent grated on Deans nerves, the want to shoot Ketch in his smug face was overwhelming.

"Next time I'll call and let you know" Dean left his gun on the table and crossed to the bunkers fridge, he'd left pie in the fridge before they'd left for Illinois and it had his name on it.

"Perhaps if you actually answered your phone when I called you'd not be creeping around waving guns about?" Ketch turned to the next page in the folder, sounding more like a school teacher than a trained assassin.

"Perhaps if you actually called with something useful we'd consider answering?" Sam replied as he lent against the door frame, "and what the hell is that noise?" The chatter down the hall hadn't stopped, Ketch looked up from his report for the first time and glared at Sam.

"If you'd answered your phones, you'd know that part of B-Tech was relocated here to conduct a thorough audit of this Safe House" 

From the insides of the fridge Dean asked the question Sam immediately though, "What the hell is B-Tech?"

"They're in your dossier on the British Men of Letters, unsurprisingly neither of you have read it. Perhaps you could remember that you work for us and do your jobs?" Ketch's gaze burned across the kitchen and focused on Dean, whom was stuffing part of his delicious pie into his mouth.

Dean and Sam HAD read the dossier supplied to them about the hierarchy and internal systems of the Men Of Letters, the division of work, the expectations of the Elders, the conduct of those affiliated, the brothers had taken turns reading sections out loud to each other while laughing. Sam had made notes on parts that might be useful to them, his neat handwriting outlining rules that benefited what the Elders would have considered unorthodox methods. Neither brother made these facts known to Ketch, better he continued to think that they were ignorant to the rules and lore of the British Men of Letters.

Ketch sighed "B-tech are members who have been unable to pass their field tests but still have valuable insight that aids the Men of Letters."  
  
Still chewing Dean shot back with "So, they're what, failures? I thought you shot those."  
  
With a nasty half smile on his face Ketch went back to his report "not the useful ones".

\--**--

Sam strode down the hall towards the war room, the voices getting louder and easier to understand with every step.   
  
"B-Tech, How can I help you"  
"I understand that you've stabbed him with a silver knife, was it blessed?"  
"No, if it's in the sunlight it's not a vampire"  
  
'Apparently', Sam though to himself, 'B Tech is the Men Of Letters version of Bobby' 

The war room had a huge white board set up in it, standing next to it was a short round man in a lab coat. He spoke animatedly, waving his hands in the air and instructing whom Sam assumed had phoned in for help in how to bless a blade. Stopping next to Sam, Dean used his chin to note a woman standing in the library reading a large book. The man in the lab coat  one of the men ended his call, walked up to the board and added a check mark in a column topped with the word 'finalised'. He turned, saw Sam and dropped the whiteboard marker.  
  
"No Fucking Way!" dark brown eyes focused on Sam, black eye brows raising in surprise towards a crop of dark messy hair. Sam wasn't certain if this was a good acknowledgement or not, the man walked towards him with a hand out stretched and talking a million miles an hour "Sam Winchester! We were hoping that you'd show up while were were still here, I'm Ernie and I'm a huge fan of your work" Ernie, took Sam's hand in his and pumped it with great enthusiasm, "Loved your work with the coven of witches, we were taking bets on how well your brothers memory would return. So glad it worked out for the best." Ernie was still shaking his hand, gazing up at Sam with an uncomfortable amount of awe.

The blonde woman glanced up from her book, watching the exchange with interest.  
  
"Sorry for the invasion, home office had a very strict set of rules about completing the audit of the only operational Bunker in America. They want to make sure that everything is in tip top shape." The hand shake continued, though with each word, the other people in the room watched for Sams reaction to the excited hero worship "I'm afraid to say that you're stuck with us for the foreseeable future, I'm Ernie, I work in B-tech, kind of like A-tech but we don't go out into the field, and this is your Brother? Dean! Hello there."  
  
Ernie let go of Sams hand finally and started vigorously shaking Deans hand, "I've read all of your files and I'm very interested in sitting down with you and finding out more about your experiences with the first blade" as he spoke Ernie looked down at Deans arm as if he was trying to catch sight of the Mark of Caine "perhaps I could buy you a beer in the near future an.."

  
"Smith, give Mr Winchester his hand back," Ketches voice cracked across the room like a whip, Sam hadn't even noticed Ketch follow them from the kitchen. 

Ernie let go of Dean's hand and started backing away "oh, sorry about that, we don't get to see a lot of people who go out into the field" unsure of what to do, Ernie stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the brothers longingly, like they contained answers to many questions the Ernie wanted to ask.

Sam wanted to put the man at ease "No problems, it's nice to meet you." Put him at ease, but not encourage him.

Ketch clapped his hands as Ernie continued to retreat "Formal introductions are required. Ernie is a Lore Specialist, he's going to comb through your archives and the books you have here and make certain that everything is up to date" using his chin, Ketch gestured towards the blonde who had descended the few steps from the library into the war room., "Cadence is in charge of Asset distribution, she'll be in and out of rooms, making certain that you are stocked and supplied in everything that you might need in the field. She will also teach the both of you how to properly fill in requisition forms."  
  
Dean beat Sam to shaking the woman's hand. She didn't look particularly impressed and offered both of them a harsh glare, "neither of you have filled in any of your required paperwork, I've left folders and the correct coloured pens for you to fill in the forms that are overdue. Please make certain that you have them back to me by no later than Twenty One Hundred Tomorrow." As she mentioned the folders, Cadence gestured with immaculately manicured finger nails towards two desks in the library that had twin piles of folders on them. 

Ketch nodded with serious pride "Cadence will get your bunker running like clockwork before you know it."  
  
Sam and Dean traded looks, this was not going to be at all fun.   
  
"and where" asked Ketch checking the far corners of the library "is the Australian import? Jacobson is supposed to be handling Archiving and Documentation."  
  
Cadence sighed "Jacobson went down to the Archive Room to try and figure out how they get quote 'such amazing wifi' in the bunker"  
  
Ketch turned back towards Sam and Dean, "you'll meet Jacobson eventually. Now. There are very few rules" He held up fingers as he counted them off "One, Don't kill anyone. Two, Don't shoot, maim or otherwise break anyone. Three, no intercourse is to be had between you and the members of B-tech. Four, do as you're told. No one particularly likes having to be here and the sooner we are done the sooner we can leave. Any questions?"

From across the room Ernie put his hand up and waved it around enthusiastically "I have questions!" 


	2. In which existence is painful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soooo this took a darker turn than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a crack fic....
> 
> My bad.
> 
> Love you Waifu

They called themselves the 'Men of Letters' which was odd for a number of reasons. 

Firstly, which letters were they Men of?

Did they use the standard English Alphabet and if yes, then did that preclude anyone who lived in a country that didn't use the same letters?

The Men of Letters had carved ancient runes into his bare skin when he'd asked those questions.

For a while everything was blissfully black, escaping into unconsciousness protected him from their probing, their prodding and their torments.

When his captivity had started, Gabriel had spent his time and precious energy fighting to be awake. He demanded to know what was going on. He tried to fight the good fight and stay awake so that he'd know who to smite when he got free. He had begun keeping a mental list of those who had taken part in his torture.

He used to scratch the passing of days into the walls of his cell.

After a time, he became more creative, scratching marks and symbols to try and attract the attention of anyone who could help him. The heavenly host, the other Gods, Kali, or even Balder and his stupid attractive face. No one came. He had not been rescued him and he was sick of his finger tips bleeding. He'd spent so much time bleeding.

Gabriel knew that the world hadn't ended and that the two bags of meat called the Winchesters had somehow stopped the apocalypse. He'd asked his captors about the apocalypse, and unsurprisingly they'd ignored him. To get a rise out of them he'd asked if there were women in their organisation and if they had to wear pretend penises to become 'men of letters' he was far from wanting to be compliant and being rude was much more satisfying than the stoney silence he'd given them to begin with.

Things went blissfully black again, and he floated on the edges of sanity as they poked at him, prodded him, took his blood and demanded more answers from him. 

As more time passed he gave them information, not enough that they could do any real harm, but enough that his brothers and sisters would be safe. 

It was better if he was tortured and tormented, paying penance for his millennia of denying his Father. Better him than anyone else.

The Men of Letters had cut off his connections to the outside world, day after day Gabriel racked his vast knowledge trying to find ways to explain how he'd been severed. Trying to find a way out of the angelic cage they'd thrown him into. Even the voices of his siblings were dulled to the quietest whisper, and Gabriel knew that they did not hear him. He had worn his grace raw trying to make them hear him. 

More time passed. The runes and spells of the Men of Letters did nothing to stop the searing pain and feelings of fear as his brother and sisters were cast from Heaven. He must have looked quiet the sight to his captors, fingers curled up, clawing at the air, mouth opened in a silent scream as the impact of the fall, the loss of so many in one moment tore through his being. Gabriel was certain they had recorded him as he felt the pain of his family a thousand times over.

After the fall it mattered even less what they did to his physical being. Beaten, broken and bloodied, they were small things. mosquito bites in comparison to diving head first into a volcano.

Captivity became a game for him, a monotonous, repetitive, never changing game that he wanted to win.

Until one day, the game changed. A rune covered hood yanked over his face to make certain nothing celestial could hear his cries for help. His hands were restrained behind his back and he was pulled from his corner in the cell and yanked out of the door. Gabriel enjoyed the change in scenery, even if it was a movement from one cell, to the trunk of a car. They drove for a very long time. Stopping twice for petrol, the unfamiliar smell causing Gabriels nose to wrinkle in annoyance.   
  
The car stopped for the last time and Gabriel was dragged from the trunk by new captors. Their energy was different. new hands touched him, prodded him, there were talks of signing hand over papers. Most of the conversations were lost on Gabriel as a ball of fear began to grow in his belly. Near him, muffled by the hood he wore, was a well of dark energy. Maybe crossing corrupted leylines. Gabriel couldn't be certain, but he did not want to get any closer. 

Hands grabbed his arms painfully Gabriel was hauled across a solid line of power. It was a dark something that was designed to keep angels trapped within and Gabriel no longer feared for himself as he was pulled fully into the corrupt power.

Tendrils of grace reached out to him, crying for his help. As each tendril reached out to him Gabriel recognised brothers and sisters he thought he had lost when he'd left heaven. He tried to reach back, each time wanting to comfort the captives of these Men of Letters. Every time he made a glimmer of a connection, the corrupt power was there to tear the connection apart.

He was tossed into a new cell. This one less comfortable than the last. The hood was removed and the full force of his new living situation crashed upon him in unrelenting waves.   
  
Gabriel Wept.

Gabriel wept for the hundreds of angels presences he could suddenly feel, and whom he knew could feel his presence.

Gabriel wept for the anguish and loss he experienced amplified a thousand times over through his fellow captives. Angelic voices asking him to rise up as the great and powerful archangel and to save them from their hell.

Gabriel wept because he could not save his brothers and sisters.

Gabriel wept, because he could not even save himself.


End file.
